The Only Warning
by amongthewinged
Summary: Valentine gets one warning, only one. First fanfict. Please go easy.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments trilogy.**

It started as something so small. No one noticed, their attention riveted to Valentine and the Inspector as he threw his fit.

No one noticed a seed, brilliant white, as it hovered in the air. It expanded, growing bigger and bigger. While the entire Hall stared at the Inspector's lifeless body in horror, waves of light began to unfold from the center, spiraling outward like the opening of a flower. The petals shimmered as the center darkened slightly, gaining depth.

The flower hung suspended off the ground by a couple of inches. From the middle of the blazing core of the flower a bare foot, gold ankle bracelets jingling softly, reached down and settled on the marble floor without a sound.

The Shadowhunters never turned around as a beautiful, pure figure stepped down. The flower folded in on itself behind her, sealing shut and vanishing in seconds.

"Valentine." She whispered softly. In the silent Hall her words, silky soft, echoed through the room. He looked up. They all turned.

She moved forward through the crowd, people stepping to the side as she approached them. She moved like a tiger, all liquid grace.

The Shadowhunter, those who had seen many marvles beyond definition, parted before her in astonishment. Her eyes, clear blue, passed over the faces and locked onto Valentine, who was frozen on the dais.

Her golden curls were bound around her head with a gold chord. A similar chord wrapped around her waist and over one shoulder, securing a length of pure white silk around her slim frame. The cloth dropped to her ankles, where twin sets of bracelets sounded like bells with her graceful movements. Her skin was porcelain white, her nose was a gently curve over pink lips.

"Valentine." She said again as she neared the dais. "Why are you doing this, Valentine?"

"The Clave is corrupt." Valentine informed her. "They consult with Downworlders, who are half demon, if you have forgotten, lady." He wave a dismissive hand at Luke.

The lady turned and studied Luke with a gentle gaze. "The wolf is a noble creature, Valentine." She told him gently. "And you forget, 'Downworlders', as you call them, are human at the core. They hold values, such as Lucien here, while demons have nothing but raw rage."

Valentine hesitated for a minute.

"But why," She continued, "Are you proposing to slaughter the Shadowhunters, the children? Are you not one yourself? Did you think the Angle would approve of this plan?" Her voice remained gentle, but it now bore a fine razor edge. "I have heard what the others have said. To pit families against one another, to manipulate, experiment, to destroy your fellow Shadowhunters. To consort with demons, Valentine. The very creatures you swore to destroy." She shook her head, gold ringlets bouncing. "And yet you call yourself a Nephilim."

"I have only the good of the entire race in mind. The corrupt must be removed if the good are to thrive…" She cut him off.

"You say these grand words as you stand with a slain brethren at your feet and his blood on your hands? Did you even stop, just once, to think that maybe he was one of your 'good'? Did you pause to consider the life you are cutting short, the memories? You stand over him, unmourned, uncaring. Where, Valentine, did you loose the light?" She asked.

Valentine drew himself up, hiding his blood covered hand behind his back. Her eyes looked coldly amused at his little subconscious gesture.

"Who are you?" he demanded in his most icy, persuasive voice. "What right do you have to challenge me?"

"Challenge you? My people do not _challenge_, Valentine." She raised her chin.

What had been mistaken for white silk on her back rustled and moved, expanding to fill the front of the dais, as she lept up onto it in one motion. Bright white with russet gold streaks on the underside, her wings were impressive. Light radiated outward from her illuminant figure.

"Beware Valentine." She said. Her voice, no longer soft, echoed through the vaulted ceiling of the Hall. "You have strayed on your path. Come back, Valentine, and spare hundreds. We are not pleased."

Though everyone else's knees were quaking, Valentine managed to look unfazed.

"Now must I fight the angels themselves? But you are not the Angel, you do not have the power to stop me."

Her eyes glowed and sparks lit in their depths. The Shadowhunters arrayed behind Valentine on the dais could instantly tell he had made a terrible mistake. The lady, the angel, raised her hand and backhanded him across the chest. Her fingers never actually touched him, but the power surrounding her sharpened, shattering Valentine's Projection.

She turned and faced the gathering of Shadowhunters. Her wings folded behind her, and the light faded slightly.

"Be strong." She said. Then the light pulsed once and she vanished. Her last words echoed around the Hall. _Be strong. Be strong. Be strong._


End file.
